If there was one thing Francis was grateful for at that moment, it had to be the roof over the parking lot. Said roof was also connected to the building they were about to enter. The three... acquaintances got out of the car before Alfred locked it. Francis followed Alfred and Matthew to the front door, pressing his leather bag against his chest as he gripped onto it. The rain was just a few centimetres away from him, and it had the ability to devour his skin any moment again. Alfred and Matthew, on the contrary, seemed completely at ease. The moment they had stepped inside, Francis relaxed a bit more. The sound of the rain was still audible, but at least the actual rain couldn't reach him now.

The building they had just entered looked relatively small from the outside (Francis wouldn't have noticed it if they had driven past it), but was relatively big on the inside. The dark wooden floorboards made an awful amount of noise whenever you walked around, but it masked the sound of the rain, so it wasn't all that bad. The walls were burgundy red, the windows were dirty, and the black curtains were covered with dust. They were in a kind of lounge, or reception, and there were two doors at opposite sides of the room. One was open and led to a spiral staircase, but the other was shut. The sofa and armchairs matched the wallpaper, and the coffee table had a jar with sweets. The light from the copper lamps hanging from the ceilings was a bit reddish, giving the room a warm and homely atmosphere.

Francis smiled – he had no regrets joining Omega.

"Want me to take your coat?" Alfred asked Francis with his trademark smile.

"Non, merci," Francis declined politely, "I'd rather keep it on."

"If you say so," Alfred shrugged, hanging his and Matthew's coat up on the pegs next to the front door. The American turned back and continued, "I want you to meet the others! Wait here, I'll be right back." With that, Alfred stormed off through the open door, and down the spiral staircase.

Matthew sighed softly – almost inaudibly – and sat down on the sofa. Francis joined him, putting down his leather bag on the floor. There was an awkward silence, making both men rather uncomfortable. Deciding to get rid of the awkwardness, Francis asked, "Why is this organisation actually called Omega?"

Matthew looked at Francis, as if he was surprised that Francis actually knew he existed. Quickly he regained his composure and said with a soft voice, "Um... well, I believe Arthur came up with the name. Because Omega is the last letter of the Greek alphabet, it symbolizes the end... It's our goal to make an end to this corrupt world, so that's why... Oh, and we didn't choose this name just because one of our suspects is the company Alpha, you know. It was pure co-"

"The hero has returned!" an all too familiar voice with an American accent announced. Francis looked up and saw Alfred together with two strangers. (Had Francis kept his eyes on Matthew instead, he would have seen that the Canadian was dying on the inside.) The taller one had combed back blond hair, icy blue eyes, and wore a stern and serious look on his face. The other one had snow white hair and crimson eyes – which quite caught Francis off guard – and he was grinning.

"Francis, this is Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt," Alfred introduced, "They're actually doing almost all the science around here, and they're also mechanics for... well, they can fix pretty much everything. Ludwig, Gilbert, this is Francis! He's an artist and has excellent observation skills."

"I wouldn't say I'm that-"

"Nice to meet you, Welpe!" Gilbert interrupted, grinning, "Be careful not to get bitten!"

Francis cringed upon hearing the last word, immediately averting his gaze. He was clenching his fists so hard that his fingernails were digging into his skin, bound to leave ugly marks.

"That is no way to talk to people, Bruder," Ludwig said, giving his brother a scowl. Gilbert didn't really seem to care about what his brother had to say, looking at Francis instead. He was curious and a bit worried about the Frenchman's reaction, but sensing the tense atmosphere, he decided to leave his questions for another time.

"If that is all, then the awesome me will return to doing my awesome science!" Gilbert said as he struck a pose before running back to the stairs, "come, Bruder, let us return to our Awesome Science Cave!"

"Just say 'basement'!" Ludwig called after his brother, following him with a scowl.

Francis finally had a place to call "home" again. He had moved into Omega's office, and was sharing a room with Matthew. Not that he minded – the lilac-eyed man was very quiet and didn't take up much space. Now, there was one thing that Francis did mind – it was something he hadn't experienced in a long time – and that was plain old boredom. There hadn't been much to do since he had joined Omega. Well, there was nothing for him to do. Gilbert and Ludwig were always busy in their so-called – according to Gilbert - "Awesome Science Cave", Matthew was usually using his computer, Alfred was always either eating something in the "living room" (the room Francis thought was the reception), or trying to decipher something in his office. (After a bit of snooping around the artist found out that the closed door in the living room led to the offices.) Francis had only been in Alfred's office a few times. There was a single wall filled with scraps of paper, notes, newspaper clippings, photographs, maps, and anything else to help the American figure who-knows-what out. Arthur's office actually had exactly the same furnishing as Alfred's office, but Arthur's office was a lot more organized. Maybe this was because Arthur was hardly around? Francis could only wonder. In fact, he could wonder about so many things, because there was still nothing to do. He had drawn a lot in his sketchbook, he had read several books, and he had even completed a landscape painting – all just to kill time. So, when Alfred announced that he wanted everyone to gather in the living room, Francis was the first to be there.

"So, you must be wondering why I summoned you here today," Alfred said with a sly grin.

"Get to the point, Alfred," a voice Francis hadn't heard in a long time said. All eyes were turned to the direction where the voice had come from. Arthur was leaning against the wall next to the door to the offices. When had he gotten in here?

"All right, all right," Alfred said, returning to his old, cheerful self, "You all know we've been highly suspicious of Alpha for a while now, and we aren't getting any useful information anywhere any more. So, I want to break into one of their factories."

While Alfred had been talking, Arthur had made his way to the vacant armchair and had sat himself down. He spoke, "What do you think we'll find there?"

"That's what we want to find out!" Alfred said, pointing at Arthur with a grin, "We don't know. We don't know what's being produced in those factories. We only know that the upper class citizens pay a hefty sum to get their hands on what is being made there, and that nobody says a word about what they are buying."

"Okay, that aside," Gilbert said with a surprisingly serious voice, "but how are you planning to break in? Not only that – who is going to do it?"

Getting inside had to be the hardest part, right? Francis hoped so, because slipping past the guards took an awful lot of sneaking about and timing. He and Matthew continued lurking through the shadows, trying their best to not be seen but still get a good view on what was happening. The loud machinery was whirring and making all kinds of frightening noises. There were no employees to operate the machines, just guards and people boxing whatever was being produced.

"We have to get closer," Francis whispered to Matthew, who nodded in agreement.

Have you ever wished that an object can be sent to Hell? Have you ever wished that an object – a random pebble, in this case – could feel pain, remorse, and – oh – did I mention pain? Because Francis most certainly did. His foot had hit a small, tiny pebble, which smoothly glided over the factory floor. Now, if it only had made a sound, it wouldn't be a big deal – the sound of the machinery would cover everything up. However, there was movement. Guess what? A guard, who was first idly dreaming away, had noticed the pebble in the corner of his eyes. The sounds of the footsteps sounded awfully frightening as they came closer and closer, and the constant noise that the machinery was making did not help lighten the mood in particular.

Under his breath Francis prayed to – well – whatever deity or higher force there was that was willing to listen. The Frenchman and Canadian both shut their eyes, ready for the yells of alarm and accusation.

"Hey, you! What are you doing here? I called you three times already! Hurry up and help me get those boxes to the van!" a voice with a thick American accent yelled. Somebody must have heard Francis' prayers, because – thank whoever had helped them – the yelling was not directed at the two partners.

The two guards left, and the artist peeked around the corner. Gone. The hall was empty, except for Francis and Matthew. The partners nodded at each other and continued their venture into the factory, stopping at a pile of boxes on a table. The boxes were roughly 15 centimetres long, 10 centimetres wide, and 5 centimetres tall, and made of a smooth, black material. Each box had a crimson ribbon carefully tied around it, with a matching seal wax that had the letter "A" on it.

"We need to know what's in those boxes," Matthew whispered, reaching out to pick one up. However, Francis stopped him, pointing at a neat pile of papers.

"...a drug?" Francis murmured.

"It's called 'covetine'," Francis explained, "we're not sure about the effects of the drug, but if you take the name into consideration, it's either highly valuable – or it makes people greedy. However, it's probably both, double-"

"Meaning," Arthur finished and smiled at the Frenchman, "You're very sharp, Francis. It wasn't a mistake letting you join."

"Merci," Francis muttered, looking at the wooden floorboards.

"Right... now we know they're producing a drug, and we approximately know what it does," Alfred murmured, leaning back, clearly in thought, "Only we have no idea what it looks like, except that it is packaged in small black boxes..."

Suddenly he sat up straight, looked Francis straight into his eyes, and said, "Strip."

"What!?" Francis said, taking a step back and clutching his chest as if he were a woman hiding her breasts.

Alfred shook his head and quickly said, "Let me rephrase that – I need you and Matthew to give your clothes to Gilbert and Ludwig. Maybe they have traces of the drug on it."

Francis and Matthew both raised their eyebrows, the German brothers exchanged a glance, and the artist also noticed Arthur's eyes shifting to Alfred. However, the Frenchman and Canadian complied, following the "Awesome Science Brothers" to their "Awesome Science Cave".

"And naturally, the Awesome Science Brothers have succeeded!" Gilbert said, loudly announcing his presence in the living room, "the drug, covetine, is black and has a crystalline structure! No need to thank me, no need for an applause, I know I'm awesome!"

"Well, now we know what to look for from now on..." Alfred mumbled, "Say, Arthur, do you think you can get your hands on one of those boxes?"

The Englishman closed his eyes in thought, "I do not believe that any of the people I have contact with directly consume the drug, but I will try asking around. I'll inform Charlotte and Amy to do their part as well. I have a feeling they will be more successful."

Alfred nodded in agreement before getting up and excusing himself to go to his office. This left Francis, Gilbert, and Arthur in the living room. The Englishman whipped out his pocket watch, looked at it for a moment, and put it back into the pocket of his waistcoat again. He stood up, saying, "I agreed to meet a politician for tea, and I'd rather not be late. Good-bye."

With those words he grabbed his coat, put it on, and left. Now it was only Francis and Gilbert left. The German sat down next to the Frenchman on the sofa, and said, "Say, Francis, can I ask you something?"

Francis nodded, "Bien sûr, mon ami."

Gilbert examined Francis carefully before parting his lips and asking, "When I met you for the first time... why did you look so tense when I said 'bitten'?"

Francis cringed again, clenched his fists again, and dug his nails into his skin again. Gilbert quickly looked away, murmuring, "Sorry, you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"N-No, it's okay, really," Francis said, trying his best to relax and ignore the creeping memories of the searing pain on his skin. He continued, "You... you ought to know."

Gilbert remained quiet, giving Francis the time he needed. Finally the blond artist managed to speak up, saying, "Before I joined Omega, I lived on the streets as a beggar. I hardly earned anything as an artist, so I couldn't afford a roof above my head... I couldn't afford any shelter from the rain, s-so... I have a lot of scars now."

"What about your parents?" Gilbert asked carefully, "Couldn't they offer you shelter?"

"I've never known my father," Francis said bitterly, "and my mother... she... she died."

A silence fell. A tense, bitter silence filled with many other negative emotions. Gilbert greatly regretted bringing up the subject, and it really hurt him to see the Frenchman suffer like that. Quietly the German said, "...I'm sorry... I shouldn't have-"

"S'il vous plaît, Gilbert, there is no need to apologize," Francis interrupted, "You couldn't have known, it's not your fault."

Gilbert nodded wordlessly, his eyes fixed on the floor, just like Francis. The two sat there in silence, but a much less tense silence now. Actually it was quite a relief to tell somebody about the thing that had been haunting him for ages, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Francis took a deep breath through his nose before letting out a long sigh. It was as if he was a balloon full of negative emotions, and he was letting it all out now. Yes, he was. He was telling Gilbert everything – from memories from his childhood to the things that annoyed him. Everything, every random thought that had once occurred to him, every funny thing that he had seen, everything he had wanted to tell somebody but couldn't – he was now finally letting it all out, and Gilbert listened attentively. When Francis finally finished, he wore a smile on his face. Despite having spoken about many depressing subjects, he felt... happy.

"Merci, mon ami, for listening," Francis said with a bright, and honest smile.

"Kein Problem," Gilbert laughed, happy to see Francis smiling. Talking to him had helped after all. Gilbert smirked, "Now you have to listen to my awesome story! Of course, because my story is more awesome than yours, it's going to take at least twice as long!"

Francis stared at Gilbert for a moment before they both burst out in laughter. However, the moment they had heard how the laugh of the other person sounded, they fell silent again, and were staring at each other – again.

Gilbert snorted before bursting into a fit of laughter, worse than before, "You sound like a llama when you laugh!"

"Look who's talking!" Francis said, laughing just as loud as his friend, as he gave him a playful punch to the shoulder.

It was nice, laughing like this again.

Author's Note

It's 4 AM and I finally finished writing, and there's finally some development in the story! *sighs*

Anyway, I think I'm going to make Francis' flirty and mischievous personality – his real personality – come out more in the next few chapters... We'll see :)

Ciao!

ChryssieVissie